


Creatures of the dark

by FakeCirilla9



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of concentration camps, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Bondage, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Shaw is Creepy, Unhealthy Relationships, X-Men: First Class (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 01:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/FakeCirilla9
Summary: Shaw makes an unexpected visit.





	Creatures of the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Set about the time Shaw and his people showed up to kidnap the mutants. In this version Erik and Charles are still there, not in Russia. Same for Emma. No idea where Moira is.  
> This perhaps screws movie timeline, robbing it of important developments, but oh well, I sacrificed it for my creepy porn's sake.

Shaw is the creature of his nightmares, the monster that visits his bad dreams most frequently. Maybe that's why at first Erik doesn't realize Shaw standing in a corner of the too big room is real. The man is lurking in the shadows, staring at him like he always does: with a fair dose of indulgence; so fondly like one does at favorite, yet misbehaving pet; with a pleased little smile skulking around the corner of his mouth.

Erik doesn’t realize it is a tangible reality, until the man moves.

Maybe not even then, because sometimes Shaw moves in his dreams, chasing him – the scared child, heart beating too fast, and desperate tries to quiet his breath – when he escapes the camp, hiding in dark corners, hiding under piles of corps; among his, dead, murdered people. He still wears striped uniform with a star, just like them.

Maybe the moment it truly penetrates Erik’s mind that it's real, tearing remnants of sleepiness to parts, is only when the man is at him, in his bed, straddling him and immobilizing his wrists with his hands.

“Shh, don't scream,” whispers Shaw to Erik's terrified mien, but he wasn't going to scream, that never got him any help before, the people around would turn deaf and it would only exhaust him further.

“Don't worry, we won't be here long. Just came for the children and will be away in a moment.”

Fuck, so they're in a greater number and damn, he placed the hot guy that saved him from drowning in danger. He needs to warn him at least, he owes him that much- yet something blocks him from sending out a mental message to Charles. Only now he notices Emma is in the room as well, cruel smile on her lips cutting like diamonds she's made of. She winks to him and sends him a kiss.

Erik should have known better. He isn't a naive idealist as this newly met guy is, so he shall leave that first night. Why on earth did he let himself imagine, infused with Charles’ optimism, that he could have some semblance of normal life here? He should be off hunting former Nazis, the one before him first of all.

Now Charles is going to pay price for his kindness, for taking Erik in. He's not weak, he's just too good for his own sake. Erik knows from experience goodness rarely pays off. His mother was good too.

“The task is pretty simple,” Shaw continues on with his explanation in a conversational manner. “They are just teenagers and some of my new recruits need to prove themselves, so I've decided, instead of supervising, I may pay you a visit. Are you glad that I came to you, my besonderes Kind?”

Shaw’s hand lets go of one of his wrists and moves toward his face, but Erik grabs it before Shaw can reach him. It’s ridiculous, because the man is sitting at him, their loins are touching, yet somehow the touch to his face seems more intimate.

There’s a look of a stag about to be run over by a car in Erik’s eyes. He knows like it knows with awful certainty the inexorable immediateness of fate and is unable to stop it. Though his grip is iron hard, firm like a metal that obeys him – Shaw only draws from that strength and uses it to increase his own power ability. No matter how much Erik trashes, how hard he fights and strains to get his attacker off him, it’s useless. It’s only making Shaw stronger.

Erik’s panic bends the partly metal frame of the bed and soon only the wood base holds in place. Bolts pop out, fittings rip from timber. Steel bars, like the extension of his hands, reach toward Shaw to push him away, to attack the attacker; to pierce through him, kill him, so he would never hurt Erik again, if Erik would be faster, if Erik manages to protect himself this time.

But Shaw steals that energy too, the metal shards only graze his skin, few droplets of blood stain the sheets. Shaw grabs the offending tubes, binds them around Erik’s wrists. Physically, because he can't move them with mind, but he has enough strength for bending metal, because Erik lends him that.

Erik, struggling in vain, feels betrayed by his own power.

And he knows the drill, soon he will feel betrayed by his own body.

Shaw tuts disapprovingly.

“Oh, Erik, where are your manners? What kind of welcome is this? Trying to stab your guest like that?”

“I didn’t invite you,” grinds out Erik.

Shaw laughs like he told a joke.

“No, you didn’t indeed. First you appear at my yacht unexpected, throw a knife at me and are gone before we could reminisce our time together in the past, when we were so close. I think, to make it up to me you could at least entertain me in return, hmm?”

Erik shrinks in himself as Shaw’s hand touches his hair, as his nemesis moves a loose wisp out of his face and patiently fixes the disorder caused by their fight.

“Now you look presentable.”

Erik holds as still as he can, when Shaw’s fingers stroke his hair. The touch is too gentle – the mockery of a lover’s caress.

The other hand still immobilizes his wrists, along with makeshift cuffs. Shaw is almost lying spread on him, he leans toward Erik even more. Erik turns his head away, dismayed that Shaw may kiss him. Shaw’s lips pecks his neck instead. Erik shudders in disgust.

The hand reaches to Erik’s shirt. Shaw undoes it without haste, one excruciating button after the other. It’s almost like he wanted to savor the moment, because a treat eaten slowly tastes better than one swallowed in one bite.

He pauses at the breast pocket and Erik’s breath falters. There’s where he holds the only keepsake from his childhood. The symbol of his past, when he was too weak to protect his loved ones. The reminder he shall practice his powers every day, every moment, he needs to hone them and make them into a precise weapon - much as what Shaw wanted to do of him, only the targets would be of his own choosing.

Shaw takes out the coin. Erik watches with increasingly moist eyes.

“You still keep it?” Shaw says, half in amusement, half in wonder. He smiles down at Erik, “I'm touched. Does it remind you of me? Do you think of me, when you look at it?”

“Yes,” forces Erik through the clenched throat. He always twiddles with the coin, while plotting Shaw’s death.

Shaw beams.

“I'll leave it then.”

Shaw slips it back into the pocket and claps Erik’s breast, his hand coming to a rest over the madly beating heart. Erik can feel his body heat sipping through.

“Klein Erik…” Shaw murmurs affectionately, like that was a pet name and for him maybe it is. For Erik it’s a humiliating nickname that backs him to the scared boy he once was.

Erik detests how easily Shaw can reduce him to that pathetic creature. He can play his body and mind like it is a weapon designed by him. Perhaps it is. It’s enough that Shaw tugs a few strings within him with some gentle touches, with a few whispered words and Erik is mentally back at the camp, his mother dead because of him; he’s an orphan left with the man he hates and fears the most as his only caretaker.

The shirt Erik wears for the night of thin, silky material, so different from the crude striped uniform, could as well be one.

Shaw’s hand goes lower and lower until it sneaks under the band of Erik’s pants.

“Maybe not so little anymore,” Shaw taunts and grabs him.

Erik recoils from the unwanted touch. Metal in the room trembles, but Erik’s grasp on it slips, adding to his frustration.

Of course Shaw goes for the most tender of places on a man's body, Doktor Schmidt has always preferred the quickest means to reach his goals. There is an unhealthy glee on Shaw’s face as he fondles Erik’s cock as if it’s his favorite toy.

Erik doesn’t want it, but so is the men construction that they’re helpless to direct stimulation and to his chagrin – and Shaw’s satisfaction – his cock grows hard.

“See how I care for you, Erik?” Fingers squeeze the sensitive flesh, a thumb rubs over the head. “You are important to me, you’ve always been.”

From the outside of the window comes a sound of an explosion and distant voices shouting. Erik’s head snaps in this direction but nothing besides darkness can be seen. Charles!

“Looks like it begun,” announces Shaw cheerfully, his strokes at Erik’s cock never faltering.

 _Better hurry up then and fuck him_ , comes the frosty rebuke and Erik is reminded Emma’s in the room too as she doesn’t bother mind speaking only to Shaw. Explains troubles he has with seizing his powers.

“Don’t ruin the mood,” chides Shaw without taking his attention off Erik.

“Do whatever you will, but hurry up,” Emma speaks, this time aloud. “Youths may need some help. And he's struggling to communicate to his boyfriend where the real danger is.”

Anger colors Erik’s cheeks. It’s not like Charles is his boyfriend, but no matter what he feels for the guy that’s his personal business. And he really doesn’t want Shaw violating his mind the way he’s doing with his body. Shaw may not be a telepath, but he sure knows how to bent people to his will. Nazi pretending payed off in excellent brain wash technics.

“A boyfriend?” frowns Shaw. “That Xavier?”

Emma rolls her eyes.

“Just fuck him and let's go check on the boys.”

“Don't tell me how to handle my precious little Erik and as to kids they may have their fun. Let them learn something. Nothing helps mature as much as a bit of responsibility, right, Erik?”

Erik is silent, but metal in the room whines for him. Shaw gives it a cautious look.

“Emma?” he prompts and Erik’s mind is cut with diamond-sharp shards. He winces in pain; the hold of his power slips from his concentration.

When the chandeliers and knobs still, Shaw’s merry countenance returns once more. Wearing a lecherous expression that makes Erik sick, Shaw drags his trousers down unhurriedly. Being trapped under him, Erik trembles with the effort to break lose, but whenever he reaches for his power, Emma stabs him with another crystal lash. He tugs at the metal cuffs, but physical strength is not enough to disentangle from them.

When Shaw pulls his pants completely off, Erik tries to kick him, but Shaw holds the flying limbs fast.

“Now, Erik, stop these antics,” he admonishes. “You know how it goes. The more you fight, the less pleasant you will do it for yourself.”

Erik seethes in unleashed anger, all the wrath pent up inside him burns him inwardly, as the more effort he puts into closing his legs, the easier Shaw pries them open. The most infuriating is the fact Shaw doesn’t even look annoyed. He settles between Erik’s legs and calmly retrieves lube from his pocket.

The fact that he came prepared chokes Erik with humiliation.

“Don't make such an expression, as if you are surprised at my kindness. You hurt my feelings, Erik. Was I ever unkind to you?”

When you killed my mother, Erik thinks, but doesn’t say it aloud, as slick fingers enter him. The responding twitch of his cock is even more humiliating.

“I know, you’re thinking about the past,” murmurs Shaw, stroking his insides gently, “you blame me for the things I did to you. But they were for your own good, Erik. By getting rid of everything that limited you, I made you stronger, brought your power forward. Just think what a marvel you are now, how much you can achieve. You can rule this world beside me. All you need to do is understand it and come back to me. Don’t let yourself be restrained by new bonds of attachment, not when I freed you from the old ones.”

Shaw mingles his poisoned words with touch bringing pleasure skillfully. Ideas from Shaw’s speech and unwanted arousal blend in Erik’s consciousness until they’re inseparable from one another.

“And you're still mine,” Shaw points out, smug. “Just see how you react to my touch.”

Using the opportunity Erik’s relative stillness gives him, Shaw focuses more on physical caresses and less on holding him down. One finger locates prostate, rubs it, the other hand clasps around Erik’s cock once more, stroking. Shaw knows his protégé well, knows how to hurt him or how to please him.

Erik’s melting in the hands of his abuser, gradually losing control and slipping into oblivion. Orgasm rips through him, giving only seconds of physical respite, before a wave of shame crashes him into self-loathing.

_We could actually proceed in our world domination plan, making life better for thousands of mutants, but no, satisfying your sexual needs is more important. If only men could use their heads as often as they use their cocks._

“Emma, at least hide your thoughts if you can't control them. You're such a fun-spoiler,” snaps Shaw. Then, to Erik he adds, in a far more tender tone: “Shh, shh, don't mind her. To me you're special. I could never think lowly of you.” He strokes his cheek, like he did so many times when Erik was a boy, when his skin was smooth and free of facial hair.

Neither his touch, nor his words are reassuring in the slightest, when his hand fiddles with the fly of his trousers. Erik’s eyes lock at the dick he pulls out. He tries to crawl back on the bed, but Shaw’s hand stops him, falling heavily onto his hip.

“Mein kleiner Junge, don't fret,“ Shaw tells him in a voice ill-fitting his bruising grip. “Don’t be afraid. I'll take care of you, mein Schützling, mein wunderes Kind.”

Falsely nice German endearments prickle Erik’s ears. What sounds kind in Shaw’s mouth is calculated on controlling him more, subduing him further.

As Shaw nears on him, Erik grabs the metal restrains he’s bound with. Heated with his flesh they have the body temperature. The hard, smooth surface of steel is reassuring, even if he can’t bend it to his will right now.

The penetration steals his breath and forces unwanted, pathetic tears – signs of weakness, _don't be a child, don't cry_ – to the brim of his eyes.

Erik closes his eyes shut to hide the humiliating reaction, but the next moment Shaw’s hot breath is on his lips, and then the man's mouth touch his. Erik recoils, mostly mentally as there isn’t any place left for a physical retreat, not with Shaw’s body pressing his into the mattress. Shaw’s hand clutches Erik’s jaw, fingers dig in his cheek, coercing him to open his mouth and invading tongue slips inside.

The cock plows into him rhythmically and it doesn't hurt, not truly, it’s not a slashing pain Emma induces, but it makes his soul ache.

He doesn't want it.

He can't do anything against it.

He would murder the whole world to stop it.

That seems like his whole life since Nuremberg Laws.

Shaw ends the kiss and it's a small mercy, but at least he isn't touching Erik so... intimately anymore. It somehow felt more personal than fucking.

He quickly reviews that thought as now Shaw stares right into his eyes, inches from his face. His panting breath warms Erik’s skin uncomfortably.

“That's it, klein Erik,” hand on the chin becomes gentler, holding his face in a mock caress. “Look at me when I'm taking you. Remember it's me who you belong to. Never any woman can take this place in your heart, no matter if she lands in your bed. No woman... nor any man, even that professor you're so fond of lately.”

The words are becoming more ragged just like Shaw’s thrusts irregular. The last few are on the edge of pain. Erik clenches his jaw.

“They don't really matter,” Shaw pants. “You're mine. We can rule this world together, Erik, we are the future of the mankind.”

Shaw comes and Erik wonders briefly if it’s caused more by how he used his body or Shaw’s fantasies of greatness. Mostly, he feels repulsed by the sticky warm liquid that spills inside him.

Emma clears her throat.

Shaw rolls his eyes. And pulls out. Erik cringes at the suddenness of it. Shaw straightens from where Erik lies in heap, wipes himself with a crumpled sheet and does up his pants.

With a pop another one appears in the room – Emma must have summoned the red devil, who’s hand now she holds. Before he joins them, Shaw leans over Erik.

“You were great, I’m proud of you,” he whispers and kisses his temple. Erik stares at the ceiling.

He feels Shaw’s sated gaze at himself, even as the man retrieves. Erik glares at him. Shaw grins and raises hand in a partying wave. To Erik it could as well be a heil salute.

Another dry snap and the party disappears in red mist.

The moment they’re gone Erik rips the iron cuffs apart with his will and the metal in the room haywires. Chandelier’s arms twist, window frames and reinforcement rods in the walls tremble.

His wordless scream.

The mental trap is gone, the invisible ties broken, but he cannot bring himself to move. Then another explosion from the yard has him up and attentive. Charles!

***

When he joins them – clothes hastily put together – it’s almost too late. They stand in a completely ruined backyard, the bronze statue is cut in half, the grass covered with broken glass, fire dying here and there.

Among the group of mutants Erik discerns Charles and breathes easier. Raven is there too. They seem agitated but unharmed. Erik can’t see Angel anywhere.

People stand close to each other, drawing comfort from the proximity. There are reassuring embraces and pats on the shoulders.

“What happened?”

“Where were you?!” Raven whirls at him, there is an accusation in her voice.

Charles looks at him the same, but the moment he sees Erik’s eyes his expression changes and Erik feels the overwhelming presence of his mind, pressing at his own; not like Emma's, gentler, easier, much more careful not to hurt.

_Please don’t._

The probing ceases immediately, obeying his wish.

“Shaw’s people were here,” explains Charles aloud. “They… took some of the students.”

He makes a move toward Erik, as if he wanted to hug him, to find solace in his embrace. Erik steps back, before he can touch him.

Charles eyes are sad and it hurts nearly worse than Shaw’s torture.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, you may also like another one of this type written by me available [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075448).
> 
> A bit more of my ramblings, which you can skip or relate to in comments:
> 
> First, Erik/Shaw dynamics are so marvelous, twisted piece of a sick toxicity 😍 There is too little stories of them. Do you have some to recommend?
> 
> Second, because of that^, I don't know how it turned up in my fic. I started to draft it after some x rewatch of the movie, then kept editing it and wasn't satisfied. At some point it felt like four totally different approaches squeezed together in one text. I evened what I could, but I'm still not sure... Is Erik enough enraged? Enough/too much scared? Is he putting up enough fight? Or did I make it too easy for Shaw? 
> 
> At the end, the only thing I'm truly proud of are German interpolations. Here are their translations btw:
> 
> 'my besonderes Kind' - 'my special child'
> 
> 'klein' - 'little'
> 
> 'Mein kleiner Junge' - 'my little boy'
> 
> 'mein Schützling' - 'my protege'
> 
> 'mein wunderes Kind' - 'my wonderful child'
> 
> They may be still wrong of course, so if you know German and see a mistake, pleas correct me ;)


End file.
